Dancing With Myself
by JPalmerGirl
Summary: "...It was raining and we went for a drive. My parents and me. They died on impact, my spinal cord was severed and there was no feeling from my hips down. There still isn't, but luckily enough, my vital areas are still under my control." Jimmy Palmer was confined to a wheelchair at the age of nine. This is his life when he takes an internship at NCIS. When he gains a new family.
1. Split decision

Jimmy sighed in frustration, he knew that it had been stupid of him to take this internship at NCIS. Apparently they'd needed a new M.E assistant because their last one had gotten injured on the job. So the board of Pathology had suggested Jimmy and off he went. What the board didn't tell him, was that NCIS wasn't handicap-accessible. Which would have been great to know before hand, considering that Jimmy had been a paraplegic since he was nine years old. So here he was, staring at a morgue slab table that he couldn't see over. He couldn't even reach onto the table. It was embarrassing and infuriating, two things that Jimmy was very used too. The young man simply sighed and ran a hand through his curly dark locks, just as the double doors to Autopsy opened and two men stepped inside.

The first man was slightly older than the other and he had the kind, grandfatherly look to him, laugh and smile lines around the mouth, crows feet in the eyes. Yes, he seemed very harmless. While the other man looked as tough as whipcord, his sliver hair and a few lines on his face were the only things that betrayed his true age, and he looked as if he could put a bullet clean between your eyes in a second flat. The first man's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Jimmy, while the other man's eyes merely twitched as they acknowledged Jimmy's presence. Jimmy on the other hand, simply rolled his chair towards them and extended a hand upwards, a genuinely bright smile on his face.

"Hello I'm Jimmy Palmer, your substitute Medical Examiner's assistant."

The first man, the one he assumed to be Dr. Donald Mallard, quickly took the proffered hand and shook it lightly as if afraid that it would hurt Jimmy. Most people tended to react like that, to treat him like he was fragile or made of spun-glass. But he really wasn't, he swore. The other man just clapped Dr. Mallard on the shoulder and extended a hand towards Jimmy. A hand that Jimmy happily accepted, the first things that registered in his mind were the strong and thick callouses that littered the older man's hand. They were rough and scratchy, hard to hold, but they made Jimmy trust the sliver haired man. And from the look in the older man's eyes, he was feeling the same callouses on Jimmy's.

"Mr. Palmer, I am Dr. Mallard and this is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"Nice to meet you, Special Agent Gibbs."

The sliver haired man just gave a small chuckle at Jimmy's reply and gave the young curly haired man a warm grumble in answer.

"Just Gibbs."

Jimmy nodded in confirmation, folding his hands in his lap. They had nothing to do when they weren't clasped in a handshake or pushing the wheels of his chair. The rough scars and caked on tough skin of his palms almost snagged on his pants. He remembered a time, several years, almost more half his life ago, when he'd had soft hands. A time when his arms were as thin and gangly as the rest of him, now his arms were ripping with lean muscle, years of pushing himself around in his chair had provided that. Gibbs gave Jimmy one last pat on the shoulder before turning on his heels and exiting Autopsy. That was when Dr. Mallard gave Jimmy a smile and motioned towards the closest occupied Autopsy table.

The Doctor quickly began speaking about the body, the scottish burr quite clear in his speech and Jimmy wheeled himself over. ...Hand on wheel...Push...Hand on wheel...Push... Instead of grabbing a spot, Jimmy snatched up a tape recorder and turned it on, as the Doctor just went on with his examination of the decomposing cadaver.

"Note the signs of hematoma on the victim's face and upper torso..."

Dr. Mallard began and Jimmy held the recorder up to his mouth, before parroting the reports back into it. He was trying not to disturb the doctor, so he whispered softly into said recorder, while still trying to listen intently to the older man.

"He was beaten before he was murdered..."

Once again, Jimmy repeated the results into the recorder but then he stopped, letting the recorder slip from its place near his mouth. The Doctor seemed irritated somehow and Jimmy began to wring his hands in nervousness, an embarrassed blush spreading over his face.

"Am I doing something wrong?"

"I was going to suggest that you leave the recorder next to me, that way you don't have to repeat everything I say."

Jimmy quickly nodded at the Doctor's suggestion, gently setting the recorder on the equipment cart. The young M.E assistant then proceeded to peer over the table as suavely as he could manage to do so.

"Yes, note the variations in color of the bruises. These were inflicted on several different occasions within the past three to four weeks. Additionally, the bruising is not only uniform, but there are no indications of any points of acute trauma...such as would have occurred from the contact of bare knuckles on unprotected skin. I believe further examination will reveal that our victim was a student of the "sweet science."

"Sweet science?"

"A pugilist, if you will."

Jimmy wracked his brain for any mention of a pugilist, he honestly wasn't sure if he had heard the term before. Then he remembered, after searching through years and years worth of stem lists that just the stem 'pug', meant something to do with fighting. So a fighter? A boxer?

"A boxer?"

"Precisely."

Dr. Mallard smiled as he finished recording his findings on his clipboard and the recorder. Then he gingerly handed them to Jimmy. Who took them and set them in his lap, before grasping the wheels of his chair in preparation. Even though he had no clue as to where he was going and what he was going to be doing. The Doctor pursed his lips for a moment before looking apologetically at Jimmy.

"Could you take those results up to the bullpen? I have to run these to our Forensic Specialist, Abby."

Dr. Mallard motioned towards the papers in his hands and Jimmy gave the Doctor a reassuring smile...Pressing the palms of his hands to the wheels of his chair...Push...Hands on wheels...Push...Hands on wheels...Push. He was used to the familiar burn of the wheels on his bare palms. Finally, as if a great weight had descended upon Dr. Mallard, he licked his lips nervously and flicked his eyes towards the young man in his wheelchair. Then what he had been trying to say, finally tumbled forth from his nervously pursed lips.

"How did it happen, Mr. Palmer?"

Jimmy's hands stilled on his wheels and they folded in his lap. He was still turned away from the older Medical Examiner as he answered, softly. The words that slipped from his lips brought back bad memories, the memories of the rusted tang of blood, of his mother's screams, of the sound of tires screeching on the freezing cold pavement, of the grizzly pain and cold numbness as torrents of rain washed away the blood. The red stained water flowed away in bucketfuls, in gigantic surges.

"...It was raining and we went for a drive. My parents and me. They died on impact, my spinal cord was severed and there was no feeling from my hips down. There still isn't, but luckily enough, my vital areas are still under my control."

Jimmy smiled slightly as he wheeled himself towards the elevator. Hands on wheels...Push...Hands on wheels...Push...

-TimeSkip-

When Jimmy wheeled himself out of the elevator and onto the floor that Dr. Mallard had dictated. His eyes swept over the rows of offices and his eyes settled on the ones nearest to him, the one that had Agent Gibbs sitting in one of them. For some reason, that reassured the young Medical Examiner's assistant and he began to wheel himself towards him. The last thing he expected was a young man with light brown hair to completely tackle his chair. Jimmy had screamed and completely somersaulted off of the chair as it toppled over. He was honestly surprised that the unsuspecting young man had managed to knock over his heavy chair. But that was how Jimmy found himself on the floor, tasting the carpet that was pressing uncomfortably into his mouth.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry..."

"Crud! McGee!"

"PALMER!"

Jimmy used his arms to lift his upper body off of the carpet as Gibbs and his two other Agents hurried over, along with the young Agent who had tackled his chair. Jimmy ignored the frantic apologies from the younger Agent and the fluttering hands that tried to help him off the floor or fuss over him. Gibbs finally righted his chair and Jimmy swept his eyes over the slew of concerned faces, before breaking out into a grin. There was a dark haired italian guy and a dark haired woman who both gave relieved smiles when they saw that Jimmy was smiling.

"I'm fine, no harm done."

Jimmy laughed at the stricken look on the Agent who had knocked over his chair. Jimmy quickly flicked on the brakes on his chair before grabbing the handles and heaving himself up and into it. After getting settled, he grabbed his right leg and placed it in the footrest before doing the same with his left. Then he flicked on his seatbelt, something he should had done previously.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Jimmy Palmer, Dr. Mallard's temporary assistant."

Jimmy introduced himself meekly holding out a hand, that was seized by the Italian guy. Who gave Jimmy a flirtatious smile in return, and a short theatrical bow. But he was soon thrust out of the way by the young woman and Jimmy's hand was shaken again.

"I'm Tony DiNozzo, young Autopsy gremlin."

"And I'm Kate Todd."

"I'm Tim McGee."

Jimmy grinned at them and almost laughed when the Agent who had tackled his chair, hurriedly introduced himself. That was when the elevator opened and admitted both Dr. Mallard and a young goth girl with vampire fangs around her neck, a short jagged skirt and ripped leggings. She quickly hurried over to Jimmy and extended a hand. A hand that Jimmy happily accepted with a familiar smile.

"Hi! I'm Abby Sciuto, who're you?"

"Jimmy Palmer, Dr. Mallard's new assistant."

A huge grin broke out on the young goth's face and he hurried forwards to wrap him into a hug. Jimmy's surprise must've shown on his face because Tony began to snicker behind his hand. Jimmy rested his hands on his wheels and slowly began to tighten his hands on the rubber.


	2. The Weak Link

Hands on wheels...

Push...

Hands on wheels...

Push...

Jimmy wheeled himself down the street, towards the NCIS building. He was shivering from the frigid wind that whipped past him and the torrents of rain that poured down upon him. The wheels of his chair were so slick from the rain that it was like pushing a slip-in-slide down the street. His tires were so overly waterlogged that they made squishing noises every time that they connected with the pavement. Something that the young man knew was going to annoy him to no end, later on. Jimmy winced as a particularly heavy gust of wind nearly knocked his wheelchair out from under him, he had to stop and reposition himself before he could go on, wrapping his coat even tighter around himself and replacing his castors, the small wheels at the front of his chair, on the pavement. While he was doing this, he could help but glance at his wristwatch. He was late and horribly so.

Jimmy cursed fluently inside his mind, his first real day on the job and he was late. But it wasn't his fault! The handicap accessible bus didn't run on rainy days and it was hard to push himself through the rain, besides he didn't want to ride his Harley in the rain. Yeah, a Harley. Riding a motorcycle had always been a dream of his and he'd soon found out as a teenager that it was quite commonplace for paraplegics, like himself, to ride. So as soon as he could, he'd bought his Harley. Now it was his baby.

It also didn't help that a few of the idiot kids at his University had locked him in a Port-a-Potty. Yep, a Port-a-Potty. Using Port-a-Pottys in general wasn't the easiest thing for him to do and locking him inside made him intensely claustrophobic. He had nearly hyperventilated before some kind janitor had heard his frantic yells.

Once Jimmy had finally managed to get inside NCIS, he stopped by the door to shake the abundance of water from his curls and to pull off his waterlogged jacket, stowing behind his seat rest. When he caught a whiff of it, he visibly winced. It still smelled like dirty toilet water. Disgusting...The young Autopsy Assistant just wheeled himself through the bullpen and towards the elevator and of course, McGee and Kate had to be in an in-depth conversation, that Jimmy interrupted with his stupid, annoying, squeaky, water-saturated wheels.

"Hey Palmer! Where've you been, Wheels?"

"Oh, nowhere important."

Jimmy smiled softly at the familiar nickname, it had come from so many lips. Cruel lips who teased and ridiculed, soft lips who crooned as she tucked him in at night, and now rough, slightly chapped lips that smiled as a friend should. He liked this version of 'Wheels' much better. But he just brushed off the rest of the sentence, getting his daily Port-a-Potty shoving wasn't all that exciting of news. It was just business as usual for him. After smiling at them one last time, he wheeled himself over to the elevator, leaving them to their conversation. Something about aborted missions and apparent accidents. Nothing that Jimmy really cared about at that moment.

-TimeSkip-

"…death was multiple traumatic injury. He was in horrible shape, Jethro… lower leg fractures, hip fractures, severe skull fractures. I could go on and on..."

Ducky sighed as he looked over the body of the young man lying motionless, as stone cold as death on the Autopsy slab. Gibbs was watching the body intently as Ducky looked looked over his notes and the cadaver. He was sending mildly confused looks over at Ducky, every few moments. Even though the older Medical Examiner seemed to be too enraptured with what he was doing to really pay attention. While Tony was on the other side of Autopsy, looking at all the different tools and such.

"No. No need, Duck."

"Have you sent the blood up to Abby for a full tox screen?...Well, that's what you were going to ask, right?"

Tony asked, and both Gibbs and Ducky sent an incredulous look towards the Special Agent. So he added the second part of his question, eyebrows raised and his expression, concerned. Just as Ducky opened his mouth to respond, Jimmy hurriedly wheeled in, gliding with his hands flying over his wheels. His brow was furrowed and his eyes creased with worry. Ducky sighed at his sudden appearance and set down his already used scalpel on the tool cart next to him. Then he crossed his arms and turned towards Jimmy, staring at him in a disproving way, something akin to a father's disappointment.

"You are late -"

Jimmy winced visibly at the disappointed look in the older doctor's light colored eyes and he sighed softly, folding his calloused hands in his lap. Nothing else to do but beg forgiveness.

"I am so sorry, Doctor Mallard. I am so so sorry."

"Although I may have second thoughts, Mister Palmer."

Jimmy's heart sunk with Dr. Mallard's words and he felt it clench inside his chest. He knew this was going to happen. He was going to be fired already, even though it was only his second day! He sighed in frustration and bit his bottom lip in both anger and sadness. He really thought he could've had a good job here.

"It will never happen again, Doctor! I promise you it was an extremely unusual situation."

"Care to enlighten us?"

"Well, it involved some Uni kids, a Port-a-Potty and the fact that handicap buses don't run in the rain."

Jimmy smiled sheepishly and shrugged at the several shocked looks he got from Tony, Gibbs and Dr. Mallard. 'Perhaps one has to be very old before one learns to be amused rather than shocked.' That was something that he'd heard in class, it was a quote from Robert Browning, a famous poet that he had studied for a week. He knew everything there was to know about Robert Browning.

"How very unusual."

Dr. Mallard whispered, still looking at Jimmy incredulously. The young M.E assistant just smiled and opened his mouth to apologize again. But the only thing that came out was a heavy hacking cough that seemed to wrack his lithe frame. Dr. Mallard's eyes widened in concern and worry. Jimmy wiped a shaking hand over his mouth and gave a reassuring look to Gibbs, Tony and Dr. Mallard. He opened his mouth to explain but was cut off by the concerned exclamation that Tony gave.

"Woah Gremlin. Are you okay?"

Jimmy just smiled and brushed him off with a hand motion and a short reply.

"I'm fine, Tony."

It brought back memories of those years right after he'd become a paraplegic. He hadn't known it at the time but paraplegics are very susceptible to pneumonia and other respiratory illnesses, if you looked at his medical records you could see obvious evidence of that. He would get assorted ailments like that, all through out his childhood after the age of nine. It was hard to explain away that many sick days. Those were also the years where his wheelchairs hadn't been tapered and his castors would light up in rainbow colors every time he rolled in his chair. It got kind of irritating after a while, but they'd been a gift from his niece at the time and he couldn't have returned them without looking like a total jerk. Or as his niece would say, 'an ass-butt.'

Jimmy was interrupted from his thoughts by a gentle hand and cool hand that was rested on his forehead. The young M.E looked up to see Dr. Mallard's bending over to check his temperature. He couldn't help but lean into the older man's hand, it had been so long nice he'd felt a fatherly touch and even though Dr. Mallard wasn't his father, it really felt like it for a moment. But like most of the moments in Jimmy's life, it ended soon enough and those cool hands left his face.

"You don't appear to have a fever, Mr. Palmer. Are you sure you don't want to go home?"

Jimmy shook his head and then stiffened as Gibbs rested a hand on the young M.E shoulder and that of Dr. Mallard.

"We've got another body, Duck."

"Oh dear."

-TimeSkip-

Once Jimmy had wheeled himself outside and towards the NCIS van, he could already see the issue. The van wasn't handicap accessible. Great. Just great. McGee and Kate both hurried forwards as if to ask if Jimmy needed help. But he declined and simply wheeled himself over to the passenger seat and opened the door. The young M.E rolled his eyes as almost every member of Team Gibbs stepped forwards as if to provide a shield of support. Jimmy just resolved to ignore them as he lifted his body up from the chair and touched down in the car seat, he grabbed the pant leg of one leg and deposited it in the car before grabbing the other and doing the same. When it looked as if he was settled in the car, McGee lunged forwards to take the chair but Jimmy stopped him with a hand.

He the proceeded to pop off the seat cushion and stow it behind the seat, to fold up the front of the wheelchair so it would lie flat, before he popped off the wheels and stowed them with the cushion and finally, he tugged the rest of the folded wheelchair with them. When he saw the shocked faces of Team Gibbs he couldn't help but give off a small, hoarse laugh.

"I've been paralyzed for thirteen years, did you think I didn't know how to get into a car of my own accord?"

Both Tony and McGee looked slightly abashed but Jimmy was surprised when Gibbs' hand lashed out and clipped him on the back of his head. The young M.E's head snapped forwards and he blinked up at Gibbs in surprise. Tony lunged forwards to pat Jimmy on the shoulder and grin in a congratulatory way. Even Kate looked as if she was laughing under her breath at Jimmy's utterly comical expression of shock.

"Congrats on your first head-slap, Sir Crips-a-lot."

Jimmy rolled his eyes once more at Tony's idiocy and couldn't help laughing for real as Gibbs' hand lashed out and head slapped Tony as well. Then he felt something bloom in his chest, it was warm and fuzzy. Something he hadn't felt for a long time.


	3. The Meat Puzzle (Part 1)

It had been three months since he joined NCIS and as odd as it seemed, he actually liked it there. He'd fit into a nice welcoming niche that he never knew had been there, he wasn't sure if any of them knew it was there either. It wasn't just the hole left behind from Gerald ether, Jimmy had carved out his own place in the niche. Wheels, gangly legs, curly hair, and his tall, stork-like body and all. But Jimmy honestly wondered how tall he really was, he hadn't measured himself in so long. He remembered a time when his mother, Eunice had been her name, had pinned a zoo-themed height chart to the wall of his room, near his bed. He even had that same chart, buried somewhere beneath multiple piles of junk and other assorted items. He remembered marking on that chart, day after day, so excited that he was growing. Then he remembered, the last time he measured himself, it was the first time he was back home after the accident. He'd burst into tears when he'd realized that in his wheelchair, he was four inches shorter than the last time he'd measured himself. That was when he ripped the chart off the wall, sending thumbtacks skittering across the floor as he shoved the chart in a box, pushing it as far back in his closet as he could. If you asked him then, those tears tumbling down his cheeks, never existed. But now, it didn't matter. Not anymore.

"Mister Palmer! Mister Palmer!"

"Yes, Doctor!"

Jimmy stopped the wheels of his chair and quickly spun his hand around to turn his chair, just in time to see Dr. Mallard hurrying towards him, part of a decaying cadaver in a plastic Baggie, hanging from his fingers. Jimmy squinted at the odd bit of flesh that hung in the bag, he wasn't quite sure what digit it actually was. His vision wasn't all that great in the first place, the glasses didn't help much, something that Jimmy really didn't care to admit to anyone.

"As a serious and dedicated student of anatomy… you are a serious and dedicated student of anatomy, are you not?"

Jimmy was quick to nod, biting his bottom lip, like a child who'd been scolded one too many times. It honestly reminded the good Doctor Mallard, of a kicked, curly haired puppy who'd peed all over the newly cleaned carpet. The young man twiddled his fingers in his lap, he tried to listen to what Doctor Mallard was saying, he honestly did, but he was paying more attention to his cellphone that was vibrating in the breast pocket of his brown leather jacket.

"Well then, Mister Palmer, are you up to the task of identifying the reconstructive blunder that has been foisted upon our deceased? Would you call that a thumb?"

Doctor Mallard snapped with his Scottish burr deepening in his speech, tossing the plastic Baggie into Jimmy's lap. The was where the young M.E studied the severed appendage for a moment, looking at the surgical scar etched on the very bottom of the slightly smelling and partly rotting digit. It was obviously a toe, a half-year med student could've figured that out, simply by the shape and the extensive amount of hair growth that covered it.

"I would call that a toe."

"Why then, perchance, did you place it with the other digits from his right hand?"

Doctor Mallard sighed, crossing his arms and glaring at the his young assistant. Jimmy froze from where he'd been trying to pass the decaying appendage to his boss. He frowned and sighed, letting his arm holding the Baggie, flop unused and unceremoniously into his lap. Then he showed the Doctor the deep surgical scars that seemed to lace over the decaying and hairy appendage.

"Because that's where it belongs. If you look at the scar line, it matches perfectly. Plus his right foot had a cleanly amputated big toe. This guy lost his thumb in an accident or something and had surgery to replace it with the big toe."

-TimeSkip-

Jimmy wheeled around the corner of the bullpen, hands placed on the familiar groves of his wheels. He wasn't sure what he was going to say and he didn't mean to hear it. It just kind of happened. Just like all those times those jocks shoved him into lockers. Accidents...all just stupid accidents. There were too many stupid accidents in Jimmy's life already, he really didn't need more of them. But they seemed to be attracted to the young M.E assistant, following him wherever he went. It all started with a backhanded comment that he shouldn't have heard.

"He's terrible Jethro."

"Palmer?"

"Yes! The boy can't hold a steady conversation with me! He can barely lift or do anything around Autopsy. The boy isn't able to do this job correctly Jethro. I don't know why he's here."

Jimmy froze, his hands stilling on his wheels, before tightening and he spun around to wheel himself away, his mind working at a million miles a minute. Then he realized, it was time that he faced facts, Jimmy wasn't anyone important, he was just Jimmy Palmer. The geeky, crippled M.E assistant. But he'd show them, he could do anything that an able-bodied M.E could do, and he could do it better! He'd never wanted to punch someone so bad in his life, and he'd never wanted to punch a man that was such a mentor to him. It honestly made him want to cry. The young M.E just slowly rolled himself out of the bullpen and into the elevator, too shocked, embarrassed and ashamed to listen to anymore of the conversation. Jimmy then made a solemn vow to prove himself to the good Doctor and Team Gibbs.

-TimeSkip-

Jimmy laughed at the way Mrs. Mallard's corgi, Contessa, buried her wet and cold nose into his clavicle. He'd come over to Dr. Mallard's house to make sure that both the good Doctor and his aging mother were alright. He hadn't known that Kate was already there or that she wasn't going to let him leave after he got there. Oddly enough, Mrs. Mallard seemed to have taken a shine to him being around and he honestly liked making the old lady smile. Even though he had to keep introducing himself and she called him a 'Crippled Dreidel'. Then when he told her that his mom was jewish but his dad had been catholic, she started to call him a 'Legless Cashew.' He honestly would have preferred the first, but he didn't mind. She reminded him of his own grandmother, then Jimmy felt a sharp pang in his chest, thinking of his grandmother made him think of his older brothers.

Clark was the oldest, Jimmy hadn't seen him in years, the last time he'd seen him was at the birth of his second child, a little girl named Agnes. Jimmy had christened her Aggie and he remembered that Clark's first born was a little boy named Derrick. Clark probably was too wrapped up in his own life to think about Jimmy. His two other older brothers were Dean and Misha, both of them probably had their own lives, just like Clark. None of them missed him and he wondered if they forgot about him, about their crippled youngest brother.

"Cashew? Do you hear that?"

Jimmy froze and Contessa jumped off of his lap as he wheeled himself over to the older woman. Then he heard it, the distinct sound of a dog barking in the distance. If Jimmy had to guess, it would probably be either a Rottweiler or a Doberman pincher. The young M.E raised an eyebrow at the sound and wheeled himself to the front door, searching around to see exactly what dog was making the noise. That was why he didn't notice as the aging and slightly demented woman slipped past him and outside onto the front lawn. So Jimmy searched around the house for the dog, the only lighting was was the lighting from a reading lamp that Mrs. Mallard had left on.

Then he heard it, Kate's yelling and Mrs. Mallard's whimpers, the young M.E caught sight of the shaded window above him. If he could just reach the string that pulled past the curtains, he could make sure that Mrs. Mallard and Kate were alright. He had to protect Dr. Mallard himself after all, maybe he could finally prove himself to the older man. He just had to stretch a little farther. Jimmy stretched his arm as far as it could go, unbuckling hi middle so that he could extend his fingers just a little bit more, just that extra inch.

That was when he felt a strong arm wrap itself around his middle and a handkerchief press against his nose and mouth, Jimmy dimly registered the fact that someone was drugging him and he knew that he was supposed to scream, to yell for help. But he didn't. He just toppled into the unnamed man's arms, running headlong into the darkness that was bleeding through his vision.

-TimeSkip-

Kate realized with a sinking feeling as she watched the silver tinted van speed down the street, that she'd fallen right into the trap. She was supposed to be guarding Ducky's mother and Ducky himself for Christ's sake! She groaned as she wrapped her arms around the frail and shaking old woman. Her terrified eyes whipped around wildly as she screamed for him, for the older medical examiner to answer her frantic wails.

"DUCKY! DUCKY!"

She screeched inside the house, Mrs. Mallard pressed against her hip and a gun clasped in her free hand.

"Caitlyn?"

Kate whipped around in surprise to see Ducky looking at her in worry and surprise, a gently lit candle clasped in his right and very dominant hand. She watched the good Doctor's lips move again and she was swamped with relief. But that relief was short lived when a flicker of silver caught her eye. The Agent spun around to see Jimmy's wheelchair tipped at an unnatural angle and without Jimmy in it. Then with a sinking feeling in his heart, Dr. Mallard followed her line of vision to the abandoned chair.

"Oh God, no..."

To be continued...


	4. The Meat Puzzle (Part 2)

The next time that Jimmy woke up, the first things he registered were the facts that it was too dark for him to see anything and that someone had taken his glasses. Then he took a deep breath, the next thing he knew, he was coughing and sputtering at the heavy amount of a nameless disinfectant, probably bleach, that was overly pungent in the stale air. It made it extremely difficult to breathe. That was when vomit spilled out of his lips, sour, acidic and hot, it dribbled don his chin and spewed onto the hard floor, or what he assumed to be the floor. The bile burned the back of his throat and he heard a string of muttered curses from the other side of the room. Then there were strong hands on him, defiantly male hands, that shoved his body into the recovery position, so he wouldn't choke to death on his own vomit. Which would be a very idiotic way to die. Then a blinding white light was shown in his face. There was a voice, it was male and it was angry, grabbing at his shoulders and shaking him as hard as he could.

"What...your...name?"

Finally a few words began to slip through the haze in his mind. He found his clumsy lips trying to form the familiar letters that made up his name, letters that he'd been saying since he was old enough to talk, but either his ears or his lips weren't working right, because he didn't hear it, but he did see as they dragged over a bucket full of ice chips. Then his head was roughly yanked upwards by his hair, before it was forced underneath the frigid and icy water. Jimmy tried to scream but the only thing that gathered in his mouth was freezing water that stung his lips and throat. The tears that collected in his eyes only stung and made him cry even harder. Suddenly he was nine years old again. He wanted his Mommy, his Daddy, and his big brothers. They were his everything, he couldn't see anything else through the pain. That's when he gave into the sweet numbness of darkness.

-PlaceSkip-

Misha tightened his hands on the steering wheel of his car, he couldn't help worrying about Jimmy, about his little brother. He was the one, out of all of their brothers, he was the one who NCIS had called to tell him that his little paraplegic brother had been kidnapped and thy weren't sure if they were going to be able to find him. Who wants to hear that coming out of the shower, what older brother wants to hear such a horrible thing? He'd shoved whatever he thought might be helpful in a bag and drove from his home in Manitoba, Canada to NCIS. They were all born in Manitoba, Misha was the only one who had stayed. He was always the one who stayed. He'd packed up whatever spare insulin he kept in the fridge for Jimmy, he didn't know why, but maybe they could get it to him. That was so fucking stupid!

Misha slowly pulled over the car on the side of the highway and proceeded to yell, to scream, to rip at his hair. How dare they take his baby brother! The only good fucking thing in their lives! The young man pulled back onto the road and headed straight forwards to the NCIS headquarters, nothing was going to stop him from saving his little brother, from saving his Jimmy.

-ShortTimeSkip-

"I'm sorry, Gibbs."

Kate whispered from her desk, wringing her hands sadly as she stared gloomily at the files on her desk. Gibbs just sighed and turned his child so that he was facing her general direction, even though she wasn't looking at him.

"Three agents."

"What Gibbs?"

"Three protectees, three agents. You were as responsible for Ducky and his mother as you were for Palmer."

Then the lone female agents fell silent, staring at her empty hands and completely wracked with guilt. Then She, Gibbs, Tony and McGee all jerked to their feet when they saw a young man enter the bullpen, his hair was dark and curly, hanging slightly over his eyes and he was tall and lanky with a green duffel bag slung haphazardly over his right shoulder, army style. Something that Gibbs, the former Marine that he was, spotted right off the bat. This boy had been in military service at some point his life. Without even bothering to shake hands with anyone, he marched over to stand in front of Gibbs' desk.

"Agent Gibbs, I presume?"

"Yeah."

"I'm Misha Palmer. Where...is...my...brother?"

The young man ground out, past clenched teeth and ridged lips. As the bag slipped from his hands and dropped at Gibbs' feet. The Senior Agent looked at the young man in a rare expression of surprise before motioning to the young man's dark green duffel bag.

"What's in there?"

"Things I thought might help."

Misha then proceeded to unload his bag, pulling out a few pictures, one of a six year old Jimmy covered in ice cream on his birthday, another one of a five year old Jimmy swimming in a pool, yet another one of a nine year old Jimmy in the hospital with a bright green balloon. He looked so happy, they assumed that that was when first became paralyzed, but the rest of the photos were of Jimmy's teen years and of him on his Highschool graduation day. He was throwing his hat up in the air with the rest of his class, he was just like any other normal kid. That made everyone who saw the photos, smile. Then Misha dug out his refrigerated bag of insulin, with the extra needles and Gibbs' face froze, along with everyone else who was watching.

"What's that?"

"Jimmy's insulin."

"What?"

"Jimmy's a diabetic."

-PlaceSkip-

The next time that Jimmy came too, he was in what looked like a cadaver refrigeration device. He could hear their voices, the voices of his kidnappers and the voices of Team Gibbs. They were here. They were going to save him, Jimmy went limp with relief and he could've cried. He tried to scream, he tried to pound on the front of his prison, but his arms were heavier then lead and there was a gag shoved his his mouth. Something else was in the air and it made his head swim. He slowly took catalog of what had happened to him while he was asleep. He'd pissed his pants at least four times, and his stomach was throbbing in time with the pounding headache in his skull. Then with a horrible sense of dread in the pit of his aching stomach, he breathed upwards and sniffed his own breath. Where his nose was met with the sickening smell of fruit. He was having a High blood sugar and by the look of things. It wasn't going to get better anytime soon.

Jimmy craned his hearing, but the Teams voices were gone, they'd left him to rot, he just knew it. The curly haired young man tried to fall into the welcoming embrace of sleep again, but it was not to be as the slab he was laying on was slowly rolled out of the freezer box and he was met by a face he didn't recognize. But he had a ghastly smile on his face. The man slowly moved Jimmy onto a gurney and proceeded to pull the restraints tighter around his numb lower extremities and to replace the gag in his mouth, along with a strip of black duct tape to muffle his screams. The screams that nobody heard.

"It'll only take four minutes to drain your blood."

Jimmy began to pant in fear, his eyes were blurred and his head was swimming, his stomach was throbbing, he had puked at least four times, he had no idea where he was and he wanted to cry. Later, he would deny the tears that poured down his cheeks and nobody would ever say any different. There was someone else, with the voice of a woman on Jimmy other side, she looked as if she was unrolling something long, like a clear tube of some sort.

"Maybe your father will finally understand how it felt to lose everything."

Father? Wait...they thought that Doctor Mallard, was his father? Jimmy tried to use his voice, tried to tell them different, but the gag and tape both prevented that. More tears squeezed out, past his closed shut eyes. He needed his glasses and he wanted his Mommy. His breaths were rough and shallow as they rushed out of his nose in disrupted patterns, he was hyperventilating as the woman rested her cold hands on his neck and tried to press something sharp and cold into him. Then his skin gave and the small metal object sunk into his neck, Jimmy grunted in pain as his blood began to fill the tube, dripping, dripping across the table, onto the floor, it was draining into a huge drain near his feet. His already throbbing and swimming head began to get fuzzier and fuzzier.

In the back of his mind, he heard the doors on the other side of the building slam open, and he heard the frantic footfalls of the Team as they hurried. The sounds of their dark heavy boots made him almost smile, they were coming for him after all. They did care. He was so sorry that he'd doubted them, so very sorry. The fact that he was sorry almost outweighed the intense pain all over his entire body as his crimson colored blood covered the floor. The woman was slowly and lovingly stroking her son's face when the doors to the room, burst open, admitting Kate, McGee, Tony, Gibbs and even Dr. Mallard himself.

"GET BACK!"

Gibbs ordered as he held up his gun, threatening the woman and man into the corner. Jimmy moaned in his relief and finally relaxed, letting his body go slack and his eyes roll back into his head, slowly. Then Dr. Mallard was there, yanking the tape and the gag from Jimmy's mouth. His soft hands were ripping the metal object from his throat and gently pressing a cotton shirt into the wound to stop the impending gush of blood, blood that Jimmy couldn't afford to lose. Tony was there too, releasing him from the gurney, though his couldn't really move anyway, if he tried.

"Stay awake, my boy! Don't you dare fall asleep now!"

Dr. Mallard ordered and Jimmy's head lolled in the good Doctor's arms, Jimmy watched as the man who had kidnapped him, slit his throat and the mother cried. Jimmy wanted to apologize. Was it his fault? Who were they, again? He didn't remember...it hurt too much to think, to look, to breathe. He was panting and he tried to speak to Dr. Mallard but his lips were numb and heavy and they wouldn't move at his command.

"Call 911, DiNozzo!"

"They won't be here in time!"

"Jethro, he's slipping!"

Jimmy just listened, his eyes at half-mast as they yelled about how to save him. But he was so tired, they were keeping him up so that he couldn't sleep. Then he felt it as a pair of strong arms lifted him up from the gurney and carried him away like a babe, as Dr. Mallard kept pressure on his neck wound. He wanted to tell them that he needed his insulin, but the for some reason, he thought that they had already figured it out, and he slipped into the realm of unconsciousness as he heard their desperate cries for him to stay awake.

Sorry...

-TimeSkip-

Misha sat in the waiting room of the over-packed hospital, Jimmy's beloved 'Team', all sitting around him, along with Clark and Dean. The goth girl, Abby was in a rather in-depth conversation with Clark about Jimmy's childhood and the rest of them just sat silent, as still as statues, waiting for the Doctor's verdict and Misha, for the first time in a long time, actually prayed. He needed his little brother, they all did. That was a talent that Jimmy naturally possessed. He would become like everybody's little brother. You couldn't help but like him. That was when a scrubbed doctor hurried over and Dean, Misha and Clark all leapt to their feet.

"Are you the family of James Percival Palmer?"

"Yes, we all are."

It was Misha who answered and the doctor gestured towards the hall to his left. Misha and the rest of Team Gibbs were quick to follow, Ducky began to talk to the Doctor about Jimmy's condition and Misha only caught a single phrase. 'It was pretty touch and go for a while, but we got him stable.' Did that mean that Jimmy was going to be okay? Did it mean that their little brother was alright? The Doctor finally led them to a room where Jimmy was laying on the bed, even surrounded by a mountain of white sheets and white pillows, he looked as pale as a ghost and extremely tired. But he still had a soft smile on his face, and a blood stained bandage on his neck wound, his curly locks were still tousled from sleep and hung partly over his eyes. Yet, he was the most beautiful thing that Misha had ever seen in his life. The young man seemed to fly over to Jimmy bed and throw his arms around the frail younger man. Both matching heads of curls were pressed together, then Clark and Dean joined the hug and four curly haired heads were pressed together. They were the bonded brothers again and Jimmy was safe, which was all they could've asked for. When Jimmy saw that everyone was staring at them, he gave them a grin.

"Hey guys! What's the matter? I'm fine."

Jimmy shrugged and Gibbs marched over and thwacked him in the back of the head. Jimmy winced but then smiled in a familiar way.

"I missed you too, Agent Gibbs."

That was when the Team swarmed forwards, each engulfing Jimmy in a hug, along with those of his family and once again, Jimmy felt the familiar relief sink into him.


End file.
